The Anatomy of Death
by GC Rust
Summary: TF2k7. While the Decepticons tear Mission City apart in search of the Allspark, Ironhide and Ratchet battle to save the life of their comrade, Jazz.


"JAZZ!"

They rushed upon his prone form with a swiftness that ignored their own injuries. Their own damage forgotten, the two Autobots known as Ironhide and Ratchet quickly bent over the upper half of their comrade. Jazz's optics were shut down, and he was unmoving, save for the steady stream of bluish liquid coursing out of his ruptured waist.

"Oh...Jazz..." Ironhide seemed hesitant to touch his comrade, but Ratchet had no such problems.

"MOVE!" The medical officer practically roared, knocking the weapons specialist off the side. Ratchet's hands were like lightning, repairing and assessing the damage as best he could.

"He's gonna be okay, right Ratchet?" Ironhide asked quietly, gazing down at his ravaged friend and reminding himself forcefully he'd seen bots in worse shape make a full recovery.

"I can't say." Ratchet said in an emotionless tone. There was no room for fear, for pain. Ratchet was a machine in the literal sense, moving from damage point to damage point, fighting the desperate fight to save a mechanoid's spark. "He's suffered major ruptures and damages from his fight with Megatron. I'm not certain he's even capable of pulling through."

"You can't say that!" Ironhide bellowed, jostling Ratchet and almost causing Jazz more injury. Ratchet snarled and turned from Jazz, clamping a hand on Ironhide's face, just under his jaw.

"Don't. Do. That. Again." Ratchet said in a deathly serious voice. "I'm doing my best, and you jostling me isn't helping a thing."

Ironhide's expression darkened. He yanked Ratchet's arm away and opened his mouth, his cannons deploying as well, and was about to say something when he paused. A low, wheezing chuckle drew the gaze of both Autobots down to the ruined form of Jazz. He was awake.

"...fi...fightin over me. I'm...touched."

"Jazz..." Ironhide said, almost as if seeing his friend talk snapped him out of a bad dream. His cannons retracted and Ratchet resumed his work.

"...I've looked better." Jazz said weakly, forcing a Human smile.

"Save your energon." Ironhide advised. "Ratchet will have you fixed up in no time."

Jazz let out a weak chuckle again. Ratchet uttered an oath in Cybertronian, drawing Ironhide's gaze. Ratchet gave a quick head shake, then bent closer to Ironhide so Jazz would hopefully not overhear.

"His Spark...it's extinguishing." Ratchet said without preamble. "I can't stop it without sealing off the damaged areas of his waist, but to do that I either need to find his legs or seal up the wounds without them - but if I do that he'll never walk again."

"You need his legs?" Ironhide inquired, glancing around and not seeing them in the immediate vicinity. Bending low again, he gripped Ratchet by his shoulders. "Keep him alive. You keep him here while I go look for them. I'll be back in a nano-click."

Ratchet merely nodded as Ironhide gave Jazz a quick squeeze on his shoulder before jogging off.

"...where's he...goin?" Jazz inquired.

"To find where the rest of you went." Ratchet said while continuing to work. "Can't very well dance without feet."

Jazz found the weak attempt at humor amusing. "...no point." He finally said. "Soon....soon I'll be one with...the matrix..."

Ratchet glanced up sharply at that, and saw Jazz was looking at him, smiling slightly.

"I know...know you don't believe in that kinda thing." Jazz said. "But...I do. Sparks have to come from somewhere, right? Only....only logical...they'd go back where they came from."

Ratchet shook his head, agitated. The Matrix of the Allspark, as it was called, was a mere theory that supposed somewhere in the vastness of the cosmos there existed a nexus of energy where Sparks gathered after Death, to be called back to the living by the Allspark. Ratchet did not believe that theory - for one thing, a Spark extinguishing barely left any energy to presume to make an intergalactic voyage, let alone carry the personality of the bot it animated.

"...hey..." Jazz said softly. "...Lemme keep the illusion, okay?"

Ratchet nodded solemnly. "Okay. Now let's work on patching you up."

Jazz reached up and knocked Ratchet's hand away before he could continue working. "I...said...no point. Save it...for those who need it."

"You need it!" Ratchet bellowed. "Now shut up and save your energon!"

"Ratchet." Jazz's voice was suddenly strong again. Jazz locked optics with the Medical Officer and seemed to almost be pleading with him. "Let me go. I knew the minute Megatron showed up my days were numbered. At least I went out the way I wanted to - that's a lot more then many of our friends could say."

"I'm a medical officer." Ratchet said in a mournful voice. "I have to do my best to keep anyone I can alive. There are too few of us to let one slip away without a fight. My enemy wears no emblem, and I'll fight him to the last ditch."

Jazz chuckled and nodded. "...too late. I can feel myself...slipping off. Please Ratchet...don't worry about me. I went out well enough..."

Jazz turned his head to a gaggle of Human bystanders, huddled under the dubious protection of a building. One little girl glanced his direction and shyly waved, seemingly oblivious to the fear of the adults around her. Jazz managed a slight wave in return, then turned back to Ratchet.

"...I think Optimus was right. They are...worth it."

"Jazz..."

Jazz's optics were dimming quickly, he lost focus on Ratchet and gazed up at the sky, streaking with missiles and smoke, the sound of battle all around.

"...this noise is killin my buzz." Jazz said to no one in particular. "Think I'll see what kind of tunes this planet picks up."

Jazz reclined back and activated his radio. After a quick scan of the radio channels, he suddenly paused at a hard guitar beat accompanied by drums.

"...Yeah...dig that beat..." Jazz muttered.

_We all came out to Montreux_

_On the Lake Geneva shoreline_

_To make records with a mobile_

_We didn't have much time_

_Frank Zappa and the Mothers_

_Were at the best place around_

_But some stupid with a flare gun_

_Burned the place to the ground_

Ratchet continued to work despite Jazz's protests, and chuckled at the music.

"Nice selection Jazz." Ratchet glanced up at the lack of response. "Jazz?"

_Smooooooooooooooooke on the Waaaaaaaaaaaater._

_Fire in the Sky._

_Smooooooooooooooooooke on the Waaaaaaaaaaaater._

Ironhide rounded the corner, nestled under one arm was Jazz's lower half.

"Ratchet! I got em! I GOT EM!"

Ironhide suddenly paused. Ratchet was hunched over Jazz, almost as if in prayer.

_They burned down the gambling house_

_It died with an awful sound_

_Funky Claude was running in and out_

_Pulling kids out the ground_

_When it all was over_

_We had to find another place_

_But Swiss time was running out_

_It seemed that we would lose the race_

"Ratchet?" Ironhide asked, dropping Jazz's legs.

Ratchet glanced up, not focusing on Ironhide, but shaking his head in a jerky fashion.

"...No." Ironhide rushed towards his friend, scooping him up and holding his close. Ratchet stood silently, gazing at nothing in particular at all.

_Smoooooooooooooooooke on the Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaater._

_Fire in the Sky._

_Smooooooooooooooooooke on the Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaater._


End file.
